


The Cuckoo and The Sparrow

by MidnightHalo27



Series: The Bent Over Tree [2]
Category: Magisterium Series - Holly Black & Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-05 02:03:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20481062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightHalo27/pseuds/MidnightHalo27
Summary: “Why are you being like this?!” Tamara yells. “This isn’t personal! It’s the fairies’ fault! That’s what they do best! It’s not an insult to your father to say he might have been corrupted. Fairies are treacherous beings, Call. They don’t know how to be anything else. They just poison everything they touch; you’ve learned that in all our classes.”And that, Call thinks, is the heart of the matter. The source of his anger; the source of his hurt.Because he knows that the mages think fairies are all kinds of devils; he knows what Tamara thinks about them and what Aaron has come to think about them too – How they associate the Fair Folk with death and cruelty and fear.Or:The sequel to The Bent Over Tree, in which things are explained and a revelation will be a gamechanger.





	The Cuckoo and The Sparrow

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hi, guys! For months, this fic sat on my pen drive as nothing more than a bunch of random paragraphs. I knew what I wanted to write, but I didn't know how I wanted to present it to you, until a month ago, when inspiration hit. Still, it was another month till I had finally written everything down, in a way that I liked, and in a tense that I liked. I was never so stressed writing a fic as I was this one, but I was also never as excited. The Magisterium Fairy! AU is my baby, and I wanted this sequel to be perfect.
> 
> Never in a million years had I planned for this to get as long as it did. The longest Magisterium fic I had written so far was "Repercussions", which was 6K, and then I go and write this one, with nearly 10.5K, and I still can't believe I did that, and that it's finally finished. I'm really proud of this fic, and I hope you guys love it as much as I do. Don't let the length deter you XD
> 
> This fic is a sequel to "The Bent Over Tree". Please read it before you begin this one.
> 
> I also published this fic on fanfiction.net (username: GakuenAlicefan27). The series will have at least one more fic.
> 
> Disclaimer: The Magisterium book series belongs to Cassandra Clare and Holly Black, not me.
> 
> I hope you like it! Reviews, kudos, etc are great! Constructive criticism is very welcome, but flames will be used to roast marshmallows.

“Changelings are fish you're supposed to throw back. A cuckoo raised by sparrows. They don't quite fit anywhere.”

The Darkest Part of the Forest, by Holly Black

It was easier to maintain the glamour magic when Call didn’t know there was glamour magic to maintain.

Now, Call could physically feel it around his frame; a distinct buzz in his ear. It felt stifling, wrong, and it was getting harder and harder to sustain; it took effort that had never been necessary before. He’d play with Havoc, get distracted, and suddenly his nails had grown sharper, his fingers thinner, almost twig-like. He’d daydream while studying and suddenly his hair would feel different in his head; not hair at all, but black feathers. He’d get excited and, when he looked in the mirror, his eyes would have gone from gray to gleaming silver, his ears pointed.

Call’s biggest fear was that one day someone would notice, and the worst of all was, he knew it was only a matter of time before they did. Maybe in a few years, once Call had gotten more accustomed to the presence of the glamour, he’d be able to control it well again. Maybe, if he ever remembered his life as Constantine, he’d know what to do. But as it was, Call didn’t have a few years, nor did he want to remember.

He could only wake up each day and hope that it wasn’t the day everything would fall apart.

~x~

The summer in-between the Iron and Copper Years hadn’t been pretty.

Call finally knew what he was, and Alastair seemed to have caught on that Call knew but, in true Hunt fashion, they didn’t say anything about it; just let it simmer as the days went on, till one fateful evening when Call received a package in the mail.

He opened it, and it turned out to be a late birthday gift from Aaron and Tamara: a little wolf chain they had crafted using Earth magic. It was beautiful and elaborate, but it was also made of iron, and it burned Call as soon as he touched it - right there in the kitchen, right in front of Alastair.

Then, they couldn’t ignore it anymore.

A tense, silent moment passed in which they merely stared at each other, the dropped wolf chain on the ground between them, and then Call tucked his injured hand against his chest and said the one thing he’d been wanting to say ever since summer break had begun.

“Do you regret it? Because if so, it’s not too late to kill me.”

Alastair reeled back as if slapped. He looked at Call with wide eyes, the color fading from his cheeks, before collapsing on the sofa with a low thunk.

“Call,” He began, and Call felt relieved to hear the horrified tone in his voice. “No. Of course not. Is that the impression I’ve been giving?”

It’s a sad day when a father asks his son that and the answer is yes; but alas, not all days can be happy.

~x~

Call goes back to the bent over tree every once in a while, when he can get away with it; days where he walks Havoc alone, with no one else to ask questions.

It’s not exactly forbidden to get close to a border to Faerie. It’s just that the mages, even teenage ones, generally have better common sense than to do that; and if a few of the Silver and Gold Years used to challenge each other into going there in the past, well, that stopped quite quickly once people started not coming back.

Call isn’t susceptible to the allure the way the others are. He doesn’t feel any compulsion to cross the border: to meet the beautiful fairies, live with them in their world and leave his problems behind. What he does feel is the call of the forest: the big, dark trees; the sounds of the river, and the feel of the wild magic in the air, all of it just screaming _home home home._

The fairies themselves usually stay quiet when he’s there. Sometimes he hears them laughing, and sometimes they say a phrase or two to try and tempt him, but mostly they just stay quiet. They never try to forcefully drag him across the border, because they want to test his strength; see if he goes of his own accord.

Call isn’t weak. His going back to the tree has more to do with being an idiot than being weak. He wants to prove to himself that he doesn’t really want to go Faerie; that he won’t, no matter how many opportunities he has.

Really, what a grandstanding idiot he is.

~x~ 

His father explained to him how he came to raise him. Most of it, Call had already heard from Master Joseph, but it was good to hear it from a second source.

Alastair had gone to the cave in Peru in a desperate attempt to save his wife and brother-in-law; to try and see if anyone at all survived. Nobody did - this part, the mage’s history books got right. What the books didn’t get right was saying that Constantine was so weakened after the massacre that he retreated to Faerie, to his mother’s land, to heal and gather his strength till he could launch an attack that would end the war once and for all. That attack never came, nor would it ever; not if it was up to Call.

Anyway, that’s only what the books say. The truth is much more ingenious.

~x~

There’s a revel in the woods tonight. Call knows because he can feel it. The energy reverberates through his bones, the laughter echoes in his ears, the cheer makes him feel electric, even secluded from the festivities as he is.

He’s always felt like that during revel nights. He just never understood why until life as he knew it was upended from its axis.

“Are you alright, Call?” Tamara asks, a frown marring her face. “You’re shaking.”

Call smiles, fake as it can be, but still convincing. “I’m okay; think I just had too much coffee.”

Aaron shakes his head. “Your caffeine problem will end up killing you someday.”

“There’s worse ways to go.” Call says, and is relieved when his friends roll their eyes and drop the topic.

That night, he lies awake till dawn comes, skin feeling itchy as if flowers want to bloom from it. For all he knows, they might.

~x~

Alastair didn’t like recalling the events that happened all those years ago, but Call deserves to know, so he goes on.

After seeing the dead bodies in the mountain, Alastair didn’t leave Peru immediately. His son, baby Callum, was in the hospital, having just undergone surgery for a vascular disease. The surgery was a success, and Alastair took his son back to their home in North Carolina, where he sworn he would raise him to be a good mage and a good person.

But there were after-surgery complications, and the baby didn’t live long after that. Devastated, Alastair closed in on himself, focusing only on the preparations for his baby’s burial. Until a few days later, when he entered the supposedly empty nursery to find two surprised fairies holding a baby with black hair and grey eyes.

“It was Constantine’s plan.” He said. “The massacre took more out of him than he had expected. The mages in La Rinconada fought back, all of them against him. He was severely hurt, and magically exhausted; the type that doesn’t go away with rest and a little time. He knew you existed, and he decided that the best course of action would be to glamour himself to look like you, revert to the form of a baby, and switch places. That way, he’d have plenty of time to recover, all the while being perfectly safe. He knew he was gonna lose his memories, but he figured he’d be able to unlock them later, when Joseph found him. And of course, this meant he’d have free access to the Magisterium as well, and the mages would have their worst enemy under their noses the entire time without knowing.”

“I wondered what had happened to the baby.” Call commented. “When Master Joseph told me, in the bowling alley, he said he didn’t know where he was, just that the fairies who did the switch had kept him, probably to introduce new blood into their Court.”

“That was why Constantine’s plan failed.” Alastair said. “The baby had already died when the fairies showed up. They stayed in the nursery more than they should, not understanding why the crib was empty in the middle of the night, and I ended up catching them.”

“But how did you come to know the exact plan? How did you know the baby they were holding was Constantine? You can’t have known just by looking.”

“And you’re right, I didn’t. They told me.”

“The fairies told you?” Call asked, aghast.

“They weren’t exactly loyal to Constantine, nor Joseph. They just agreed to do the switch because they thought they would get new blood out of it. Then I caught them, and they were disappointed, so they told me what they were supposed to do just for the pleasure of seeing my horrified face.”

Alastair sighed. “And I…I looked at you, just a tiny bundle in their arms. I guessed that they would take you back to Joseph, and he’d end up raising you himself, or find someone else to raise you; mold you back into the person Constantine was. I couldn’t stand the thought. You were so innocent. I wanted to give you the chance to grow up to be a good person. I wanted the war to be over. All I’d have to do was keep you away from Joseph, and away from the mages, and things would be alright.”

He glanced at Call. “I know what Sarah would have done, if our roles were reversed. She’d have killed the fairies. Killed you.”

Call flinched.

“She would have been wrong.” Alastair said. “I knew that, even then. And so, I told the fairies to leave you anyway, and they thought this would be some great fun at Joseph’s expense. They left you in the crib, and never told him about what really happened.”

He touched Call’s shoulder, startling him. Alastair had never been big on physical gestures.

“I don’t regret it, Call. I never will.”

And Call breathed a little easier.

~x~

Things were better, after that talk.

Of course, not everything was hunky-dory. Call still had to deal with the fact that he used to be Constantine Madden, and that he was of a different species altogether; not to mention the fact that Master Joseph was unlikely to just leave him alone. Oh, and to top it off, he was losing control of the glamour magic.

But still. Better. Because he still had his father, after weeks of wondering if he had lost him.

~x~

And then,

_And then,_

Things went to hell.

Because of course.

~x~

The news are everywhere. It’s all anyone can talk about.

The Alkahest has been stolen. An ancient, extremely powerful object that killed the makar Verity Torres –

Gone. Just like that. Right from the same air base where the Iron Trial took place. Right from under the mage’s noses. Taken by someone who knew the place well enough not to trigger the alarms or get caught in the cameras.

But that’s only the bad news. The worst ones come two days later.

Because one of the investigators looking into the case saw Alastair crossing to Faerie.

And now the mages have someone to blame.

~x~

The Masters throw question after question at Call. Stupid questions, tactless questions, and Call rewards them with curt answers and icy glares.

_“Did you know that you father was planning to steal the Alkahest?_

“He did not steal the Alkahest.”

_“Did he ever give you the impression that he would like to bring your mother back from the dead?”_

“My father would rather die than disrespect her like that.”

_“People say that he was never the same after The Cold Massacre…”_

“That tends to happen when you lose your loved ones.”

_“Does your father have any fairy acquaintances?”_

“Ask the fairies. They love visitors.”

_“Please, Mr. Hunt, we’re just trying to find out the truth.”_

“No. You just want someone to crucify.”

After all the other Masters fail, they have Master Rufus try. Call stares at him in disappointment until he leaves.

Once they realize they won’t get anything out of Call, they let him go.

~x~

And the rumors begin.

Students stare. Students point. Students glare and sneer and shy away from him. Most of them have never talked to Call in his life. Most of them have never even seen Alastair at all. It doesn’t matter.

One thing is for sure though: Call may have somehow locked up his memories of life as Constantine Madden, but he will remember this. He will remember all of them, the way fairies do.

~x~

Call is in a rotten mood for the entirety of the following day, but Aaron and Tamara try and approach him after dinner, in their chambers. Celia and Jasper tag along, but stay to the side, watching. He guesses Celia wants to be there for the potential gossip material and Jasper because he wants to throw Alastair’s supposed betrayal of the mages on Call’s face.

“Listen, Call.” Tamara begins. “We just want you to know that none here blames you for anything, and that we don’t think your father willfully stole anything. So,”

“Willfully?” Call interrupts, already knowing that this conversation isn’t gonna end well.

Tamara makes a face, realizing the same thing as Call. “I mean, we don’t think your father was in his right mind or anything. He crossed to Faerie, so that means he was probably being controlled.”

“It’s not his fault.” Aaron hurries to add. “I still remember how I felt when I was near that border at the tree. It’s like all rational thought just flies away.”

“It’s not impossible to resist.” Call says, drily. “The allure only works if it’s something you want, deep down, even if just a little. Sure, they distort it, so that you forget reason in order to get it, but it doesn’t work if they want you to do something that you are vehemently against. You know that. We learned that.” He accesses them both with cold eyes. “So what you are saying is that my father secretly wanted to steal the Alkahest in the first place.”

Call knows he is being a little unreasonable. If Aaron and Tamara knew what he knows, they probably wouldn’t think Alastair would be so easily swayed, and they’d know there might be other reasons as to why he went to Faerie. They don’t know though, and they can’t make leaps in the dark.

Still, Call is angry, because angry is all he seems to be nowadays. Because there’s something about what they are saying that irks at him and makes him wanna bare his teeth. Because being angry is better than being numb; better than getting even.

“Call,” Tamara says, slowly, as if she’s talking to a small child. “It doesn’t have to be about wanting to betray the mages or help the Enemy. Maybe he just wants your mother back, and that’s enough for the fairies to manipulate.”

“She would kill him.” Call throws back. “She would kill him for bringing her back, and then she’d kill herself. He knows that. They talked about it when the war was beginning.”

“That was then, but now it would be more difficult for your father to resist.” Tamara insists. “You’re here at the Magisterium, and he’s all alone. He’s isolated himself, and he’s probably depressed. He already wasn’t very stable back at the Iron Trial…”

“Don’t get me started on parents, Tamara.” Call warns. “Because I have a few choice words about yours.”

Low blow. Call doesn’t care.

Aaron covers his eyes with his hands. Celia worries at her lip and, beside her, Jasper makes a face as Tamara bristles.

“Why are you being like this?!” Tamara yells. “This isn’t personal! It’s the fairies’ fault! That’s what they do best! It’s not an insult to your father to say he might have been corrupted. Fairies are treacherous beings, Call. They don’t know how to be anything else. They just poison everything they touch; you’ve learned that in all our classes.”

And that, Call thinks, is the heart of the matter. The source of his anger; the source of his hurt.

Because he knows that the mages think fairies are all kinds of devils; he knows what Tamara thinks about them and what Aaron has come to think about them too – How they associate the Fair Folk with death and cruelty and fear.

Because he knows that they wouldn’t be his friends if they knew what he is. Even if he wasn’t Constantine, they would hate him anyway. For being a fairy; for being born.

And the worst part is: it didn’t use to be like this. This hatred, this suspiciousness, is a product of the war. It’s his fault.

“Do you really think this is true?” Call asks, gravely. “Do you think that things were always like that? That the mages always avoided fairies like the plague? That they didn’t interact with them? Didn’t make deals with them? Weren’t amazed by their knowledge and power?” He grits his teeth. “And that they didn’t know what fairies were capable of, at the same time? People have known it for centuries. It’s in every book: Fairies are capricious. Fairies are tricksters. Fairies play with words and go too far for too little. But did that stop the mages from associating with them? No.” He says. “That divide came because a half-fairy decided to wage war against the mages, and a few fairies helped him, and suddenly that was enough for an entire race to be resented.”

He looks at Tamara. She’s shaking her head, as if she thinks Call’s just being deliberately stubborn. Call closes his hands into fists. Anger might be a good distraction, but he can’t afford to get angrier than he already is. Fairy magic is wild enough on its own; fueled with a strong emotion such as this, he might lash out unintentionally.

But he has to say this. He has to. “Do you think all fairies are heartless monsters?” He seethes. “Do you think they spend their entire days planning ways to lure unsuspecting humans to their doom? You think they don’t have families? That they don’t love their children? You think they don’t cry?” He asks. “Except you don’t really think that, do you? You don’t think anything. You just keep on repeating the things your parents battered into your head.” He looks at Aaron. “And you let the Masters do the same to you.”

Tamara flusters. “You’re –!”

“A disgrace, yeah.” Call says, recalling her words on their first bus ride to the Magisterium. “You’ve already made that clear, remember?”

The color suddenly drains from Tamara’s face, and Aaron flinches. Jasper talks, then, coming to stand between them:

“I think it’s better if you three just go to bed, before there’s no fixing this.”

Call doesn’t know what surprises him more: Jasper’s words, or the fact that he actually kept quiet until now.

Jasper moves again, this time touching Celia’s arm and leading her to the door. He looks back and nods at them, once, before leaving. Celia looks over her shoulder too, and says:

“Sorry about your dad, Call.”

Then both of them are gone, and Call follows Jasper’s advice and goes to his bedroom without saying anything else.

~x~

Call and Tamara don’t talk about it, but they don’t avoid each other either. Now that the heat of the argument is gone, Call isn’t as upset, but still hurt; and Tamara also doesn’t seem particularly upset, just extremely frustrated. They are giving each other space, and it feels important that they do.

Meanwhile, people keep on dragging Alastair’s name through the mud. Call doesn’t say anything, but if some students suddenly find themselves getting lost in corridors they’ve known for years, and if others keep misplacing their books and pencils, or if certain people’s drinks mysteriously acquire a bad taste…well, that’s a coincidence indeed.

~x~

Call isn’t stupid. He knows that half the things he said to Tamara are things he shouldn’t actually know. Some of them, he did learn at the Magisterium, since fairies feature prominently in their classes; but the majority of them are things that, in his heart, Call always knew, just never paid attention to.

It worries him, knowing that the instinctual knowledge that comes with being a fairy still clings to him, lodged into his brain in such a way that he is able to use his magic to play tricks on other students without even giving it a second thought. It makes him think that the memories of his time as Constantine might make an appearance any day, between a moment and the next.

He isn’t ready for that. He doesn’t think he will ever be.

~x~

A few days after the argument, Call is seating in a corner of the Gallery, eating a sandwich, when Kai Hale plops down next to him.

Call eyes him suspiciously. He and Kai talk, sometimes, but they are not close. They’ve certainly never talked just the two of them before.

“Hi.” Kai says, smiling.

“Hi.” Call says back. Kai has an earnest expression, so he relaxes a little. “What’s up?”

“I hope you don’t mind, but Celia told me about your argument with Tamara.”

Call raises and eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Yeah, and I wanted to say thank you.”

That confuses him. “For what?”

“For what you said about fairies not being heartless monsters.” Kai looks around quickly, but no one seems to be paying them any attention. He bites his lip. “You see, I have fairy ancestry.”

Call thinks he might be gaping a little. “What?”

Kai shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant, but his apparent nervousness ruins the effect. “It’s not like it’s a secret, but it happened a long time ago. My great-grandmother, so most people forget.”

Call stares at him. A great-grandmother is distant enough that the physical traits of a fairy aren’t there, but a little bit of the magic should have remained. He focuses on Kai, and thinks he can feel it; just a little trace of wilderness, but there all the same.

“She’s still alive,” Kai continues, still talking about his fairy ancestor. “She tries to visit at least once a year, but sometimes she loses track of time. Once, she didn’t show up for six years straight. We were worried something had happened, but turns out she just got distracted.”

Call smiles. Fairies live so long; a year passes in a flash, especially in Faerie. “You’re rambling.” He points out.

Kai’s cheeks redden in embarrassment. “Sorry. I’m nervous. We avoid talking about her outside of the family. But you,” He looks at Call. “I think it’s okay to talk to you about it. You don’t seem terrified of fairies like everyone else is. Thank you for that. It made me happy to know there’s at least one person in the Magisterium who feels this way; made me feel less alone.”

“Yeah.” Call replies, starting to feel embarrassed himself. Of all things, he hadn’t expected to be thanked for what he said.

Kai cocks his head to the side. “You don’t have to answer, of course, but it got me wondering. Are you like this too? With fairy heritage, I mean.”

Call decides to answer, but he still ponders the question for a minute. He has fairy heritage, but not in the way Kai probably meant. Kai has a bit of fairy blood and magic in him, but he is not a fairy. Perhaps, if he went to Faerie and stayed there, time would make it so that this part of him grew till he truly became one; but right now, he is human. Call, on the other hand, is a fairy. Not a full-blooded fairy; he could lie, after all, as Constantine’s father was human. Still, he is a fairy, down from his pointy ears to his untamed magic.

“Something like that.” He answers, at last. “A bit more complicated though.”

Kai nods and doesn’t pry any further. Call feels his mood lighten, just a little.

~x~

During the nights, he looks at the ceiling and wonders just what his dad was thinking.

Call doesn’t know if he stole the Alkahest. He doesn’t see any reason why he would, unless he thought to steal it before someone else did, but that seems unlikely. And if he didn’t, then what are the odds that he’d cross to Faerie days later, for a non-related reason? Was the person who stole the Alkahest the one behind his crossing? Was this timed to frame Alastair?

Call doesn’t believe for a second that Alastair was bewitched. But then, why? What did he have to do in Faerie? Why didn’t he tell Call he was gonna go there? What was so important that he’d risk his life like that?

Call worries. He knows, because Alastair has told him, that the fairies have a strange respect for him - for knowing a changeling’s true nature and raising him anyway. Still, this respect won’t be enough for them not to play with the silly human who ventured too deep into the forest.

_Dad,_ He thinks. _I hope you know what you’re doing._

~x~

A month later, Call is alone in his group’s quarters, Tamara and Aaron having gone to the Gallery, when there’s a knock on the door. He opens, and it’s Jasper.

“You need to be more careful.” Jasper says, barging in without being invited.

Call opens his mouth to retort with something rude, but then Jasper’s words sink in and he closes it. Jasper sits on the sofa and Call follows him, eyes narrowed.

“What do you mean?” He asks

“You’re a fairy.” Jasper answers, matter-of-factly.

Call freezes, his whole body going tense. His first instinct is to deny it, but one look at Jasper’s expression is enough to know he’s not gonna budge. Then he realizes Jasper doesn’t sound accusing, or angry, or even smug. Besides, if he meant to tattle on Call, he wouldn’t have come to confront him all alone, or told him to be more careful. But that still doesn’t mean his intentions are pure.

“What do you want?”

Jasper blinks. “What?”

Call raises an eyebrow. “That’s what you came here for, isn’t it? To sell your silence. So, what do you want in exchange for it?”

Jasper’s face goes red. “Jesus Christ, Call! I’m trying to help you!”

“Out of the goodness of your heart? Forgive me if I have trouble believing you.” Call says, sarcastic.

Jasper huffs. “Listen here,” He says. “I don’t like you, and you don’t like me. That’s not news to anyone. And I don’t know what happened - which one of your parents cheated - but I know you’re a fairy.”

“So I’ve been told. And?”

Jasper’s shoulders drop. His whole posture changes, as if the fight has been drained out of him. “The mages are scared of fairies, and scared people are dangerous.”

Call stares as if he’s just been punched in the stomach. Jasper looks the other way, embarrassed.

“We don’t always see eye to eye, but if the Assembly finds out you’re a fairy, they’ll probably lock you up, or maybe even kill you, and you don’t deserve that.” He says, looking at the carpet. “So be more careful.”

Call watches him for a moment. He seems truthful, which is good but also makes Call feel pretty horrible for assuming Jasper wanted something from him. “What about you?” He asks, at last. “Aren’t you scared of fairies?”

Jasper keeps his gaze averted. “It’s like you said. Things weren’t always like that, between the fairies and the mages. They made deals, alliances, some even became friends.” He tugs at his collar. “Most families severed these ties after the war, but the deWinters still have some acquaintances in Faerie.”

“I assume that is not something you broadcast though.”

“Of course not! My family is trying to regain influence, not alienate ourselves altogether!”

“I won’t tell.” Call says, softly; more softly than he’d ever thought he’d talk to Jasper.

It’s ironic. He’d been feeling so isolated since finding out he was a fairy. It hadn’t occurred to him other people might have secrets like this too. None like his, of course, but still. It was a strange but comforting thought: Himself, Jasper and Kai, all being alone together.

“But how did you know?” Call asks, once the thought occurs to him. “That I’m a fairy, I mean.”

“Because of the bracelet.” Jasper answers, now thankfully looking at him again.

Call frowns. “What do you mean?”

“The bracelet. You know, that thing you did - always pretending to forget your apprentice bracelet when we were in our Iron Year.” Jasper shrugs. “At first I thought you really were that scatter-brained,”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Anyway, as I was saying, at first I really thought you were always forgetting that thing, but then Copper Year started, and suddenly you never forgot it anymore, and I thought that was super weird. It took me a while, but I eventually realized it was the iron in the bracelet that was the problem.

It was true. The apprentices’ bracelets had their year’s metal on them. On first year, it had been iron. Now, it was copper.

The funny thing is, Call himself hadn’t known what was wrong, back then. He’d known the iron band in the bracelet made him uncomfortable, and that it burned him in the few occasions where he’d touched it, but he’d thought it was an allergic reaction. A severe one, yes, but less absurd than what the truth turned out to be.

He wasn’t even pretending to be forgetting it; he simply didn’t put it on and the others assumed he’d forgotten. If Master Joseph hadn’t told him, it’s possible Jasper would have known before Call did. The morbid hilarity of the situation is too much for Call to bear.

“What are you laughing about?” Jasper asks, bewildered.

“Nothing.” Call says, shaking his head. “Nothing.” He studies Jasper. “But still, the iron thing is a bit of a stretch, don’t you think? I could just be allergic.”

Jasper snorts. “Yeah. Allergic and molting.” He says, eyeing the ground near Call’s feet.

Call follows his line of sight and sees a raven feather, lying there as if it’s mocking him. He curses and swipes it off the floor, burning it with fire magic.

“I’ll try and be more careful.” He says, feeling blood rush to his face.

Jasper raises a skeptical eyebrow, but no snide comment comes Call’s way. “Well,” He says. “I’ve said what I wanted to say. Now I need to go, before someone comes in and sees me here.”

“That scared of being seen with me?”

Jasper doesn’t dignify that with an answer. He makes for the door, but stops midway. Call looks at him with curiosity.

He turns back around. “And don’t be too mad at Tamara. You were right about that too, she’s only repeating the things she’s heard. She never really stopped to try and form her own opinion on this.”

“Some people would say this is even worse.” Call points out, sadly.

“Yeah.” Jasper agrees. “But it doesn’t mean she can’t get better.”

And he leaves.

~x~

Call doesn’t think Alastair is gonna be found. Not until he leaves Faerie, at least. If he ever leaves, that is.

It’s not something he likes to think about, but it’s a possibility.

Call will give him two more months, then he will go after him. It might seem like too long a time, but he has faith that his father will be able to stand his ground.

And if Alastair does come back on his own, that’s another thing to think about.

~x~

Tamara passes him by on her way to a study session with Gwenda. She pauses beside him and he looks up from the book he’s reading.

She bites her lip and says: “When Aaron and I decided to have that talk with you, I didn’t think you’d get so angry.”

“Really?”

“I mean,” She begins. “I did think you might get angry, but not over the fairy thing.”

Call doesn’t say anything to that.

Tamara looks at the ground, then the wall, then back at him again.

“I don’t understand why it’s such a big deal.”

“Have you stopped to think about what I said? That it’s wrong to blame an entire race on the things a person has done?”

Tamara sighs. “It’s not so simple, Call. You weren’t raised in mage society, so you don’t get it, but I know that if you had grown up hearing the things I did, you would see things my way.”

“Would I?”

Tamara huffs. “Can’t we just…forget about it? Is it really that important?”

“It is.” Call says. Tamara blinks at him, apparently not having expected that answer.

“Why?”

“Because I’m secretly a fairy.” Call says without missing a beat.

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, and I’m the Queen of Scotland.”

Call shrugs. He doesn’t want to fight with Tamara; he swears he doesn’t. But his nerves are already frayed from the Alastair situation; he doesn’t have the energy to put on a smile and pretend it doesn’t hurt knowing that Tamara wouldn’t be his friend if she knew he wasn’t human.

“Seriously, Call.” She says. “You shouldn’t go around saying these things. The mages do not appreciate these kinds of jokes, and the fairies…” She shivers. “If a fairy somehow hears about it, they might take offense. So please, be careful. Don’t make jokes about being one of the Folk.”

“It’s funny,” Call says, even though it isn’t funny at all. “You’re the second person to tell me to be careful this week, but for an entirely different reason.”

Tamara’s lips become a thin line. She stares at him as if expecting him to explain, but he doesn’t elaborate. Eventually, she says. “Okay, then. I guess we’ll just have to agree to disagree.” She makes to leave. “I gotta go. I’m already late.”

“Bye, your Majesty.”

~x~

Not much time later, Call is lying on the sofa in his group’s common room, trying and failing to take a quick nap before dinner, when he hears Aaron’s voice talking to him.

“Are you asleep?” He asks.

“Yes.” Call croaks.

“Good. I wanted to talk to you.” Aaron cheerfully replies; much too cheerfully for a sleepy Call’s taste.

Call moves his arm, which had been covering his eyes, and blinks into the light of the room. Aaron gently lifts his legs so he can sit down, then repositions them on his lap.

“What’s up?” Call asks, blinking the sleep away.

Aaron shrugs. “I feel like we haven’t talked in ages.”

“We haven’t.” Not really; not about anything substantial. Not the way they used to talk before this whole situation began.

“Do you think things between you and Tamara are ever gonna be the same again?”

“I don’t know.” He answers, truthfully.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Call says, almost laughing.

“I don’t know. For not doing anything, I guess. For not knowing what to do to make things better.”

The laughter dies down instantly. “It’s not your job to do anything, Aaron.”

“I’m the makar.” Aaron replies, as if that automatically means he has to be able to fix everyone else’s problems.

“You’re a child.” Call says, and wonders if it was the Assembly that put these thoughts in Aaron’s head. “No matter what anyone else says.” He adds, darkly.

Aaron looks down.

“And if you’re worried about this thing with my father, don’t. Let me worry about it.” He pauses, and then says. “And you don’t need to be scared of him. He would never hurt you, or help someone hurt you.”

“I’m not.”

“And you don’t need to be scared of me either.” Call says, because he’s an idiot.

Aaron’s head whips up to look at him. “I would never.” He says, fiercely.

And Call’s chest _hurts_. He opens his mouth to say something, anything, when Tamara all but crashes through the door.

“Call!” She says, panting like she just ran a marathon. “They found your dad!”

~x~

Call catches Master Rufus just as he and Master Milagros are leaving the Masters’ lounge, Aaron and Tamara hot on his heels.

“Is it true?” He asks, trying to talk through the pain of over-exerting his leg. “Did they find my father? Is he alright?”

“Call, breathe.” Master Rufus says, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Did they?” Call asks again.

“They did. I’m on my way to the Assembly Hall right now. They called an emergency meeting.”

“Is he there?”

“No. He’s at the infirmary, passed out.”

“Why?” Call asks, wide-eyed.

Master Rufus’ eyes soften. “We don’t know. He was found like that, just outside the border to Faerie. Master Amaranth thinks he’s just exhausted.”

Call takes a deep breath, hundreds of thoughts running through his head. “And this meeting? Is he gonna be sentenced? Are they even gonna give him a trial?”

“Things are gonna be fi-”

“They’ll do whatever they can to make him look bad.” Master Milagros says.

“Milagros!” Master Rufus exclaims, but she just shrugs and turns to Call.

“Listen, Call. You’re a good kid, and God knows if I were in your shoes I’d probably have set fire to this place already, so I’m gonna tell you the truth instead of sugarcoating it.” She says, and Call would thank her if he weren’t so busy clinging to her next words.

“They know your father didn’t steal the Alkahest. They’ve known this for a few weeks by now.”

Behind Call, Aaron and Tamara gasp, but he doesn’t even notice. Master Milagros continues. “The mages investigating the case hacked into the security cameras of your street the night of the theft and confirmed that your father was home when the Alkahest was stolen. And after that, they analyzed the video feed from the air base again and managed to catch the shadow of the thief just outside one of the main corridors. It wasn’t enough to get a face or anything, but they can tell that, whoever it is, they’re much shorter than Alastair.”

“But,” Call says, gobsmacked. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?” He looks at Master Rufus.

“He didn’t tell you because he knew that it wouldn’t be enough to clear your father’s name.” Master Milagros says. “They can’t sentence him for stealing the Alkahest, but he still crossed to Faerie days after it was taken, and that doesn’t look good.” She sighs. “Lots of people are angry, and putting the Assembly’s authority into question. They’re out for blood, and your father is the perfect scapegoat. I’m sorry, Call.”

“It’s not your fault.” Call replies, distractedly, even though he knows that, unlike Aaron, Master Milagros’ “sorry” doesn’t actually mean that she feels guilty; just that this whole thing sucks.

“Call,” Master Rufus begins.

“The problem,” Call says, suddenly, when a thought strikes him. “Is that my father went to Faerie, right? That’s all they have against him?”

Master Milagros frowns. “Yes, but…”

“If I tell them why, and it has nothing to do with the Alkahest, then they can’t do anything, right?”

Her eyebrows rise to her hairline. “I can’t guarantee anything, but you can try kiddo.”

Call considers his options. He and Alastair worked on a cover story in the summer, in case worst came to worst. It was reasonable, and nothing the Magisterium could disprove. But it was only for the utmost of emergencies, because even this lie had truth in it, and once out, there was no turning back.

But if it saved Alastair from being wrongfully accused, then what was a bit of truth ingrained in lies?

He knew what Alastair would do. He would admit to everything the Assembly accused him of, simply because it would protect Call; even if it landed him on the Panopticon, he would do it gladly.

Call’s not gonna let him. He just might lose everything, but he’s not gonna let him.

He looks at Aaron and Tamara. “Don’t wait for me. Even if they don’t sack me from this place, you’re probably not gonna want to be my friends anymore anyway.”

They both sputter, outraged, but Call is already turning to look at Master Rufus, whose hand is on Call’s shoulder again.

“Call,” He says, face etched with worry. “Whatever you’re thinking of doing, please don’t.”

Despite the gravity of the situation, Call manages a small smile. “I need to, Master Rufus. For my dad. You understand, don’t you? You love him too.”

“I do.” Master Rufus says, looking pained. “But I love _you_ too. Alastair is a grown man; you’re still a child. Let the adults take care of this.”

“I’m not that much of a child.” He says, and it’s even true. He _feels_ old, as if his bones haven’t forgotten the weight of what his mind did.

“Yes, you are. It seems like yesterday I was visiting your parents, holding you when you were just a few days old.”

Call almost chokes on the lump on his throat. “No.” He says, sad but determined; knowing that his next words have to be heavy enough for Master Rufus to be shocked into letting him go. “You never did that. When my father wakes, you can ask him where that baby’s grave is.”

He ignores Master Rufus’ disturbed look and marches to the Assembly Hall.

~x~

Call stands there, in the center of the Hall, surrounded on all sides by the Assemblymen and their smug grins.

They think Call is here to admit to some nefarious plan of his father’s. They think they’ve got him where they want him. They think they won.

They don’t have the slightest idea of what’s coming. If nothing else, at least Call will enjoy seeing their faces when he starts talking.

Off to the side, Masters Rufus and Milagros get to their seats. Aaron and Tamara were not allowed in, thank God for small mercies.

Assemblyman Graves clears his throat, and the noise slowly dies down. Graves looks at Call, a nasty smile on his face, and says:

“We were told that you have explanations to give regarding your father’s crossing to Faerie, Mr. Hunt. Is that correct?”

“Yes.” Call says, voice steady even though he feels anything but.

“Then I believe you can begin.”

“I’m a changeling.” Call says, without faltering.

~x~

The reactions do not disappoint. For a second, the stunned silence in the Hall is loud enough to hear a pin drop, right before the whole place explodes into a cacophony of sounds. Some people exclaim in disbelief, and some shake their heads in disappointment; some are too shocked to react, while others are outright laughing. From the corner of his eyes, he sees Master Milagros gaping at him, while Master Rufus seems to have frozen in his seat.

After a few minutes, Graves and Master North manage to put order in the house, and the voices quieten again.

Master North turns to him, glaring fiercely. Call has never liked him, so he glares back.

“Mr. Hunt,” North begins, derision in his tone. “If you’re gonna waste the Assembly’s time like that, perhaps you should –”

“I can prove it, of course.” Call interrupts him. “I’m under a glamour right now, to pass for human.” He smiles wickedly. “I can just drop it.”

The ones who were laughing do not seem so sure now. Doubt shines in their eyes at Call’s words, and the mages look at each other with uncertainty, beginning to wonder if this surreal situation could be true. More than one person starts to show signs of nervousness, while others squint at Call as if that would help them see through the glamour.

Assemblyman Graves opens and closes his mouth like a fish, then looks at North for support. The old mage is looking pale, his anger from before having all but dissipated to give place to a growing dread.

“Do it, then.” He says at last, as if in challenge.

Call passes the challenge, dropping the entire glamour at once.

The shrieks that echo around the chamber are deafening, but the reactions differ. Some mages scurry from their seats and press themselves against the walls, trying to get as far from Call as possible, but many of them actually lean closer, expressions full of wonder and amazement.

Master Rufus remains still as a statue in his seat, but now he’s looking at Call as if he doesn’t know which way is up anymore. Master Milagros, on the other hand, looks like she’s having the time of her life. Call barely notices, too busy savoring the incredible weightlessness that he feels.

He had never dropped the glamour before; mostly, he fought to keep it on. Now though, Call feels free, as if the glamour had been a cage too small for his bones, and he could finally stretch. He hadn’t known it would feel like that. For the first time, he looks at his long, twig-like fingers; feels his hair of feathers tickling his neck, knows his ears are pointed and his eyes shine like quicksilver –

And it all feels _right_.

Call laughs, jubilant, and wonders if it’s his imagination, or even his laughter sounds different; melodious like a chime.

Graves takes a step back.

“Boo.” Call says.

And he falls on his bum.

~x~

Unfortunately, Call does need to give an explanation to all this if he wants his father free and, for that, the mages have to be paying attention. Grudgingly, he puts the glamour back on, and is surprised when it settles over his skin without difficulty.

_Perhaps,_ Call thinks,_ that was the problem before. I was thinking of the glamour as my normal state. Now, I have accepted that it’s not. It’s like a cape that I can put on and off, but it will never be anything more than that._

_Perhaps, this had to happen, after all._

~x~

Call takes his chance, while people are too shocked to think of arresting him, and begins his story.

“It happened twelve years ago.” Call says, and everyone’s eyes glue on him, hungry for the story like a bird of prey upon seeing fresh meat. “Just a week or so after the Cold Massacre. Alastair had barely gotten back to the States with his biological son, trying to get himself back together after his wife’s murder, when the switch happened.” He repeats word for word what he and Alastair had rehearsed before classes resumed. “Alastair did not notice, deep in grief as he was. You know, it’s very difficult to tell a changeling from the original baby, and the fairies knew that it was a mage’s house, so they were extra careful to make the glamour perfect.”

Call fakes a pained expression for what he is going to say next. “It was a good trade, in their opinion. They need to introduce new blood into the Courts every once in a while, and baby Callum didn’t have any defects. I, on the other hand, was born with a bad leg, and they don’t want imperfect offspring.”

Lies. All lies. Call wasn’t born with his leg like that, nor would the Folk have given him away if he had. They might have given him away in exchange of new blood, but not because of the leg, and they would come back for him when he was older. Fairies conceive so very rarely, any fairy child is cherished.

But it’s not like the Assembly knows any of that. To them, The Folk are fickle at best and monstrous at worst; not wanting a child because of a disability sounds just like something they would do. As if there aren’t humans who would do the same.

“What they didn’t know,” Call continues. “Was that baby Callum Hunt wasn’t as perfect as they thought. He was born with a vascular disease, for which he underwent surgery while in Peru. But just because he survived surgery, didn’t mean the danger was over.” He shakes his head. “There were complications, and the baby died in Faerie days after the switch.”

A collective gasp goes around, but Call ignores it. “My biological mother was not pleased, and decided to switch the babies back, probably to switch me around with some other child.” He smiles, full of made-up scorn. “But just as she had deposited the dead baby on the crib where I slept, she was caught by Alastair. He understood at once what had happened, and chased her away with protection charms before she could grab me and take me with her.” He pauses.

“And then?” A woman in the crowd whispers, then immediately covers her own mouth with her hand, as if not believing that she interrupted him.

“And then he kept me.” Call says.

“Kept you?” Someone else whispers, astonished. It’s a little stupid, considering that, out of the whole story, this should have been the obvious part.

“He realized that I was a changeling, and that his son was dead.” Call explains. “But I was just a baby, and when Alastair thought of how my mother was willing to part with me in the drop of a hat, he couldn’t find it in himself to give me back to her. Not when he knew that she would probably just get rid of me again, to God knows where, or maybe simply kill me.”

“Oh, Alastair…” Master Rufus says, voice full of pain. His comment is harder for Call to ignore, but he manages.

“My mother tried to get me back a few more times, but Alastair made it clear that he didn’t intend on letting that happen. She eventually gave up, but not before swearing that he would rue his decision. And after that…well, he loved me. He raised me.” Call frowns before saying the next words, because he doesn’t like thinking about them. “He buried his biological son in a discreet grave in a plot of land he owns, but never officially registered his death. The idea was to raise me as Callum Hunt, so as not to attract suspicion. To live quietly, but happily, away from the fairies and the mages.” He shakes his head. “I was never supposed to get into the Magisterium; you saw how terrified dad was when I passed the Iron Trial, knowing that his fairy son was gonna be surrounded by people who did not look kindly upon the Folk.”

Master Rufus pales considerably. Master Milagros puts a hand on his shoulder to keep him upright.

“And that,” Call says. “Brings me to the reason why Alastair crossed to Faerie,” He pauses, to build up the suspense. “My biological mother.”

“The faeries that live close to the border told me, one day while I was out walking Havoc: she heard the Alkahest had been stolen, and thought framing my father would be excellent payback. She made him believe that she had managed to take me away from the Magisterium, and so, he went to the land under the hill to try and get me back. My dad doesn’t keep up with mage society anymore. He probably didn’t even know about the theft, or he would have found the timing suspicious.”

He sighs deeply. “I wanted to go after him, once I learned what had happened, but then I realized that was exactly what she wanted me to do, so I decided to wait for a while and see if he came back on his own.”

A man sitting on the front row scoffs. “Come back on his own. From the depths of Faerieland.”

Call smiles like a shark. Even with the glamour back on, many people flinch. “It’s not as unlikely as you think. My father graduated from the Magisterium with full honors, and I’m sure those of you who fought on the last war remember what he was like in battle.” A few of the older mages nod. “Besides, just because my mother doesn’t like him, that isn’t necessarily the case for all the faeries in the land. Many of them have a strange type of respect for him, for raising me even though he knew the truth.”

A murmur spreads through the chamber, and Call chooses his next words carefully. He’s been thinking of them ever since he entered the hall, but he’s still afraid the mages will ignore them, for all the truth they contain.

“Now you know that my father is innocent of betraying the Magisterium.” He says. “As for me, you might want to kill me or jail me for the crime of being born.” Some people look away in shame. “But I will remind you that your cold peace with Faerie is fragile as it is, and an attack like this against one of them, even a changeling, will most likely start a second war.”

The worst part is, Call isn’t even lying about this. Fairies mess with other fairies all the time, but humans are not allowed to. Not unless they want to face the wrath of the Folk.

“You can expel me from the Magisterium and kick me back to Faerie, of course.” He says, because he knows they would love to do that. “But I can make you a deal.”

Master North narrows his eyes. “We don’t make deals with fairies.”

“Then don’t. But there’s no harm in listening to what I have to say.”

He waits, but no one seems to have anything to say in opposition, so he continues. He makes sure to word the sentences very carefully, because even though he can lie, fairies always follow their deals to a T.

“I will help the mages be free of Constantine Madden’s threat,” He can’t stop Master Joseph and his followers from attacking, but the way he said it, he can keep his end of the deal by simply sitting down and doing nothing.

“And in return, you will let me keep on living with my father, attending the Magisterium, and the Collegium if I wish to. You will not exile me from mage society, even when the threat is gone.”

The mages exchange thoughtful looks. Even though all of them were taught never to make a bargain with a fairy, that the Folk will always find ways to trick the humans, they are still considering his offer. Call is almost disappointed; have they really learned nothing over the years?

“I’ll be outside waiting for your answer.” He says. “Take the time you need, and remember: if I stay, you get a fairy ally.”

~x~

They make him wait for hours, and Call uses the time to go over the events of the day. It’s way past curfew, so the corridors are deserted and no one is there to see the way Call all but slumps against the wall, feeling the strain of it all finally catch up to him.

He is a contradiction of feelings: He wishes Aaron and Tamara were there. He wishes he’ll never see them again, if it means not having to face their expressions of fear upon learning the big bad truth. He wishes none of this had happened, and yet, the same thought from before remains in the forefront of his mind.

_Perhaps this had to happen after all._

~x~

In the end, they accept.

Some of them, like Master North, look constipated about it; but to Call’s surprise, most of them look excited. He figures they are too amazed at having a fairy in their midst to remember that they are not supposed to like him.

Hypocrites, the bunch of them. Not that Call is complaining.

~x~

They let him leave after that, and Call is half-way to the infirmary to see his dad when Master Rufus catches up to him.

For a minute, they just stare at each other. Call spends the entire minute feeling dread build up in his stomach; not so much because he regrets what he’s done, but because he already disappointed Master Rufus when he was Constantine, and now it feels like he disappointed him again.

But then, Master Rufus leans down and hugs him, tight but caring, the way Call hasn’t been hugged in a long time, and says: “You’re so brave, Call. You and your father.”

Call’s throat chokes up. It feels like an undeserved compliment, when nearly all he did was stand there and lie a lot. Before he can drown in guilt though, Master Rufus lets him go and smiles slightly.

“I’m still needed in the Hall in the moment, but I would like to talk to you and Alastair, when I can.” He says it like he isn’t sure he would be welcome, probably thinking about his strained relationship with Call’s father.

“We’ll be waiting.” Call says. “Keep it in mind, Master Rufus: It was nothing you did.”

Master Rufus exhales shakily, then nods and goes back the way he came.

~x~

Alastair wakes up hours later, and the first thing he sees is Call smiling at him from his bedside.

He is not amused when he learns of what Call did.

“It was necessary.” Call says. “You may disagree with me, but you being sent to jail was not an option.”

Alastair sighs. “I wish things hadn’t happened this way, but what’s done is done.” He rubs at his eyes, still looking fatigued. “I guess it’s a good thing they were stupid enough to let you see me before questioning me. Now I have time to match my story to yours.”

Call beams. “To be honest, I think they will be stupid enough not to know left from right for a while, after all that I threw at them. You should have seem their faces when I dropped the glamour, dad.”

Alastair smiles in return. It’s such a rare sight from him, Call basks in it. They have the same smile, he’s noticed. Even without the glamour, Call’s smile is just like his father’s.

“But speaking of stories,” He says, making sure that Master Amaranth is indeed standing too far away to hear them. “What about yours? Why did you go to Faerie in the first place?”

Alastair sobers up. “Master Joseph sent me a letter, telling me that he wanted us to work together so we could protect you better. I responded, because I thought it would be a good opportunity to gain information on what he was planning. I knew, when he insisted on meeting in Faerie, that it was some kind of trap, but I thought it was worth the risk.”

“A little warning would have been nice.” Call says, unimpressed.

Alastair has the gall to look ashamed. “You would have tried to stop me.”

“A pretty normal reaction when your father decides to cross to Faerie to meet with the enemy.”

Alastair ruffles Call’s hair. “It was, indeed, a ploy. He was not interested in working together at all; he just needed someone to take the fall for the theft of the Alkahest.”

“Was he the one who stole it?” Call asks, trying to remember if Master Joseph was shorter than Alastair.

“No. It was a spy of his, from what I gathered. But it doesn’t matter, I destroyed it.”

“You what?” Call hisses, eyes wide.

“I destroyed it.” Alastair repeats. “When I arrived at our meeting point, he attacked me with it. I used metal magic on his belt buckle to strangle him.” He looks at Call, gauging his reaction.

Call merely blinks. He knows, in that deep, obscure part of his mind that remembers his past but not really, that such acts of violence were commonplace in Faerie, though there used to be a fair deal of deceit and word games before they escalated to that.

“So you killed him, and then you destroyed the Alkahest?” He asks.

Alastair nods. “I couldn’t leave it there, where the fairies would find it, and I couldn’t bring it back either, in case the mages ever decided to use it against you. Getting rid of it sounded like the best option.”

“Yeah, it makes sense.” Call says, and frowns. “But how long did it take? You’ve been gone for months.”

“Four days was what it took.” Alastair says, making a face. “Two days to get to the meeting point, and two days to come back. But you know how time passes differently in Faerie; I’m honestly relieved that only a few months passed here. I was scared I’d get back and years would have gone by.”

Call hadn’t even considered it. He wouldn’t have been so chill in giving his father two months to come back if he’d remembered it - Depending on what part of Faerie Alastair ended up, things could have gone the other way too. He could have been stuck there for decades while Call waited, assuming that he lived in the first place.

“Did the fairies give you trouble?” He asks to try and get his mind off the topic.

“No.” Alastair answers. “No more than can be expected. It was of their interest that I met Joseph, and I think the end result satisfied them enough that they let me through on the way back.” He says.

Call nods and rubs his drooping eyelids to keep himself awake. Alastair takes a good look at him. “You seem as tired as I am.”

“Long day.” Call replies. More like long months, but still. “Master Rufus would like to drop by soon.”

“Yeah.” Alastair says, sounding resigned. “I guess it’s long overdue that we talked.”

“It’s gonna be a good thing.”

“I hope so.”

“No.” Call says. “I mean it. The whole thing. I think it’s for the better that we got the fairy secret out of the bag. I was gonna slip up soon, and now I don’t have to worry about that.”

Alastair studies him quietly, and Call adds. “They weigh on us. The secrets.”

“I know.” He replies, simply.

Alastair pats the empty space beside him on the mattress, and Call hops onto it, careful with his leg. He lies down and muffles a yawn.

Alastair’s eyes soften. “It’s almost morning already; you should sleep.”

Call does, and despite everything, he feels light.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: No, I'm not gonna show Aaron and Tamara's reactions in this fic, because I'm evil *laughs manically* and because this story is long enough as it is. Like I said in the beginning's notes, this series will have at least one more fic, which is when you'll get to see everybody's reactions.
> 
> Bonus points if anyone caught the "Carry On" reference, and the "Halloweentown High" reference.
> 
> Thank you for reading! You can find me on tumblr as agarotado27dejunho, be it to discuss anything Magisterium related or just say "Hi!"


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